


Between the Lines

by SassyElfFriend



Series: What Is and What Could Be [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action & Romance, Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), F/M, Love Letters, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Sacrifice, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyElfFriend/pseuds/SassyElfFriend
Summary: Ellana has a slight gap in her knowledge that she has been keeping from everyone. Solas, for once, might be able to get her to set aside her pride and grow.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Series: What Is and What Could Be [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619122
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes! This has been germinating for nearly 2 months. My bad! Just a heads up, if you haven't already read the first 4 stories in this series, you will be VERY confused in the second half of this one. It's a series, people! They all link together. Also, if the formatting gets wonky, I apologize. Things got dicey as I transferred the text over to publish. Also also, some bits may come across as ooc. I recognize this and I DO NOT CARE! I will ship this couple until I die!!

The ceaseless fluttering of the tiny winged creature intent upon circling her head was quickly losing its charm.

She sat at her spindly desk located in the corner of her airy tower bed chamber plodding away at the mountain of correspondence thereon. It was dry, tedious, headache inducing work, but she was the only one able to field these particular requests and reports. The inanity of some left her baffled and contemptuous, however.

“If one more duke requests my aid in seizing land from some petty rival with the ‘gift’ of his disgusting dirty glove, I swear by Elgar’nan, I’ll rip the veil open again just to get away!” 

She had allowed her head to fall with a thump onto the desks surface in weary frustration, scattering the many papers haphazardly. Her eyes strained from trying to decipher the myriad of unfamiliar words written with far too much embellishment for her taste and skill level. Clan Lavellan had practiced more practical forms of education, dedicating themselves to teaching their young ones the skills of survival and self-preservation foremost. Very few were ever taught to read or write, and even then, the Keeper had to approve of it and teach the lessons herself. No one else in the clan was close to being as proficient with the common tongue as she. 

Ellana herself had only been taught as part of her training as first, not knowing a lick of the trade language until she was eight years old. But she was only taught enough to aid the clan in matters of trade, nothing so complicated as what was needed to piece together the terms of a treatise of the effects of the Orlesian civil war on the plight of their city elves. She was far too  embarrassed to approach the ambassador for assistance. And her pride would not allow her to set about hiring a tutor to teach her the finer aspects of the written language. 

There were none within the Inquisition that knew of her struggles. It was always possible to avoid the topic, as she would simply save any and all correspondence until she was alone, either in her tent at the end of a long day of journeying or in her tower as she was then. 

The closest encounter she had had with unintentionally revealing herself came as she was speaking to her... well, what did one call a person whom you had kissed only once while awake and professed to love? The thought made her head throb anew whenever she dwelt on it. 

She had been perched on the arm of his desk chair, staring over his shoulder at a letter he was composing to an inquisitive former senior enchanter of the Circle in Tantervale. It was written in flowing, elegant script. The writing was both simple to read and effortlessly beautiful and it fit his personality perfectly. No unnecessary flair or frills. 

Despite this, the language he employed was well beyond the simple terms of business she had been taught. It had, on most occasions, become possible for her to intuit meaning from a text if she read slowly and with care. Such care did nothing to aid her in understanding his rambling, academic turns of phrase however. 

He scratched his chin pensively, considering the words on the page. His hands left a smudge of ink near his dimple there. 

“Can you think of anything I might add, Inquisitor?”

_ Shit, shit, shit! Be calm,  _ _ Lavellan _ _. Be cool. Say something witty and distracting! _

_ “ _ Yes! Um... yeah, I mean yes!  It sounds...good?”

_ Nice going kid. Why don’t you go find a hole and just bury your head now! _

Thankfully Solas was so absorbed in his thoughts on the subject that he barely noticed her blunder. 

“Are you sure? I am uncertain if I explained my thoughts thoroughly enough in this section here. What do you think?”

He indicated a lengthy paragraph midway down on the parchment. His eyes rose to find hers and she prayed to the Creators that he couldn’t read the panic in them. She obviously couldn’t understand a word he had written and was at a loss as to what she should say.

In a panic, she cast her eyes about the rotunda searching for a distraction. When none was forthcoming, inspiration struck her.

“You know, I am willing to bet that Dorian would be happy to look over your letter. I’m sure he could offer greater insight than myself.”

His brows furrowed at this. “You give yourself far too little credit, vhenan. You have a keen mind for magical theory. And, even were that not the case, I would seek your opinion.”

“Why?”

The smile he gave her then was sweet and dubious as to her ignorance. “Because it matters what you think, to me, of course. I would have you share your thoughts with me on all things.” 

Mythal’s divine flaming ass! The things he said made her heart positively melt sometimes. She could feel her ears and cheeks flame with heat and she nearly forgot that she had yet to answer his question. How was she going to get out of confessing to her quasi illiteracy without offending him or tipping him off?

“I, um, don’t... I don’t really have an opinion on that, Solas.”

This was the wrong thing to say.  Ellana could read the trepidation on his face. A full retreat would likely be the only thing that would save her. 

“Ah! Um, I am so sorry, vhenan, I forgot that... I have... Cullen is waiting for me! Yes, um, to discuss troop movements in Halamshiral during the peace talks.”

_ Finally! Maybe you aren’t COMPLETELY useless after all.  _

The frantic pitch of her voice most likely tipped him off that something was amiss, but before she could see his suspicions, she raised a hand and waved. It wasn’t at all stilted and awkward, no, not a bit. Turning on her heel, she all but ran towards the door leading to the bridge that would take her to Cullens office. It seemed like the best choice, based on the excuse she had given him to flee his damning questions. 

Cullen was, for obvious reasons, surprised at her sudden intrusion. But  Ellana was able to bat her eyes a bit and convince him to devote an hour of his time speaking with her. It was actually quite a productive meeting, all things considered. They even commiserated over the necessity of attending the formal event with a glass of aged  Antivan whiskey, which was sensational on her tongue. Pilfered  Chasind sack mead, the likes of which she had tasted during a bond ceremony within her clan and  which was the only alcoholic beverage outside of wine that she had ever tasted, was essentially vinegar in comparison. She secretly planned to ask Josephine if she might be able to acquire more for her at some point. 

They parted ways amicably,  Ellana feeling a pleasant warmth in the pit of her belly. She hesitated to pass through the rotunda once more on the way back to her quarters. What if Solas were there and tried to bring up the letter once again and ask for an opinion on it that she couldn’t give? Worse, what if he saw through her desperate lie to flee his presence and demanded to know why she was evading him? 

At the heart of it, she had always looked for any excuse to see him during the course of her day. Just the sight of him was enough to ease her troubled thoughts and put a smile on her face. She decided to act like the mature adult that she was and not skulk around the fringes of the keep just to avoid an awkward encounter. 

As it turned out, she needn’t have bothered worrying. When she opened the door to pass, he was curiously absent from his desk. A quick look around had confirmed that he was, indeed, not in the room. Odd that she should feel so put out by his absence, seeing as how anxious she was about seeing him at this very moment. Suppressing her disappointed frown, Ellana continued towards her quarters and delved into the pile of letters that she could no longer ignore. Josephine was ever polite to her during their talks of all of the requests and correspondence that the Inquisition received, but she knew that her lagging support in answering her share was placing an extra burden on her shoulders. 

Ellana was pulled back into the present, a handful of hours past sundown, when the bird like creature soared in through the  ever-open balcony doors and began swooping in to peck her face and neck. Swearing, she raised a hand to try and defend herself.

_ Fenehdis _ __ _ lasa _ _! What is this obnoxious thing and where did it come from? _

A plethora of minuscule scratches began to form where it nipped at her skin. Having enough, she tried to swat it away and hopefully put it out of commission until she figured out what to do with it. It proved to be most adept at evading her attempts, however. She rose to her feet, nearly crying now in frustration. The little bird did not relent in its attack.

Feeling desperate,  Ellana speed walked to try and find the one person she trusted might know what to do about her predicament. Passing through the main hall, a handful of concerned and fearful glances met her pitiful flight. Thankfully there were few still awake in the keep at this hour. She could only guess at what the visiting nobles would think of the Herald of  Andraste practically running through the throne room while being attacked by an unidentified flying object. She said a silent prayer to the Creators that she would not find the rotunda empty a second time. 

It appeared that she had earned their favor in this. For when she entered, passing a confused  Varric burning letters from the merchant's guild in the hearth next to his favorite chair, Solas stood leaning against the scaffolding with an expectant look. He was not at all surprised to see that she had come to find him and in such a state. 

“Welcome back,  vhenan . I trust you have kept well since last we met?” His smirk was unmistakable and caused  Ellanas ’ rapidly fraying temper to snap.

“I’m being driven positively mad, is what I am! This blighted creature found its way into my  chambers somehow and now it won’t leave me alone and I have no clue as to why or what it wants!”

His expression remained unchanged. He paid no mind to the beast that was now burrowing into her hair to nip at her scalp. She shrieked when she felt the creeping sensation of it crawling through her curly locks. The feeling of it left her embarrassingly close to tears. Growing up in the wilds of  Thedas had taught her well the horrors of having insects, arachnids, and all manner of horrible beasties make their way into her hair as she slept. She would awake, at times, to find them crawling on her face and head and scream in terror, getting mocked mercilessly by her peers in the clan for her skittishness. The memories left her feeling small and frightened in a way that she had not felt in many years. 

After several moments of her taking panicked gulps of air verging on falling into a full panic, Solas seemed to sense the severity of her distress and reached to pull the thing away and out of her hair. Surprisingly, it seemed to recognize him, even fluttering about his hand and perching on his finger like a domesticated pet. Realization hit her harder than a rampaging high dragon.

“YOU! You did this! Why?! Why would you sic this lousy, obnoxious, horrible creature on me?”

Startled by her sudden outcry, the creature took to the air in a panic and made to begin its’ assault anew. She continued to slap at the thing with decreasing accuracy. At one point, she actually hit one of the beams supporting the scaffolding causing a bloody scrape to form on the back of her hand. Solas had the audacity to release a deep, throaty chuckle at her vitriol. Ignoring her question, he deftly snatched the critter out of the air once more and with a deliberate slowness, he unfolded it to reveal that it was, in fact, made of paper! 

“By the Dread Wolf! Is that what I think it is?”

His only reaction to her blaspheming was a small tick in the corner of his eye.  Ellana watched as the paper bucked in his fingers, as though trying to escape him. Grasping it firmly, he held the paper out for her to take, meeting her eyes expectantly.  Ellana knew what he was telling her and swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. Hands trembling, she reached out and took it from his hands. The paper was warm and she could feel the strength of its movements as it struggled in her grasp. At any other time, she would have marveled at its existence and peppered her lover with endless questions about how it worked. But her intuition concerning his intent in this petty little gambit had her anxiously holding her tongue. Finally, he spoke and confirmed her suspicions.

“Before you are the instructions on how to tame your little friend. If you follow them to the letter, you will find him a far more pleasant companion.”

Ellana was filled with such shame in that moment. Her eyes sought out the words on the living page, but the most she could make out was “speak” and “end”. Tears blurred her vision and she looked away to the shard lying on his desk, avoiding the silent question in his eyes. 

“Please, ma lath, I can’t...”

“You cannot what,  vhen’an’ara ?” His tone was soft and coaxing, promising not to judge her for her lapse in knowledge. 

“The words... I am not able to read them.”

The concurrent silence made her nauseous. At any moment she expected him to curl his lip in disgust of her ignorance and end their romantic relationship, perhaps telling her that he required one of greater intellect with which to share his heart and that she was now unworthy of him. Her chest tightened with panic and her breathing picked up an erratic rhythm. The paper in her hands gave a particularly violent jerk as her fingers clutched it tightly enough to crinkle where she held on to it still. 

She jolted in place as his hands joined hers in holding the paper. Lips brushed next to her ear, jostling the strands of her hair as he spoke to her in a humming baritone. 

“If you wish for me to be your friend, speak the word and I shall be your steadfast companion till the end. Should you want me to leave you be, say so firmly and I shall flee. But if the words upon my person are all that you require, lay me flat and command me to be still or cast me into the fire.” 

He leaned away enough to read her expression, but preserved the intimate closeness that they had developed during his recitation of the instructions on taming the paper bird. His hands remained cradling hers around the paper. The anxiety poisoning her system lessened only slightly, still waiting for him to cast her from his side. He waited, saying nothing more and demanding her attention with a compassionate stare. 

Could it really be so easy as simply using the word ‘friend’, if that was indeed what the directions meant? Ellana knew that he would not lie to her, so she would have to follow his instructions and rely on his word that the bird would not attack her again once she let it go. Finding comfort in his continued presence, she released the paper and it sprang from her to reshape itself once more into a bird. It hovered in the air level to her eyes and waited. 

“Allow me to address you properly, Falon.” Her use of the elven word as opposed to that of the common tongue seemed to please it, as it gave an excited little swoop and came to rest on her shoulder, no longer attacking. 

“Well done,  vhenan ,” he said, eyes nearly sparkling with pride at her intuitive use of the elven term for friend. 

Ellana was relieved to be free from the creatures insistent badgering. It now seemed content to quietly keep her company, affectionately ruffling her hair to create a nest for itself. The sensation did not make her skin crawl as it would have before. 

“How much of the common tongue are you able to read?”

His question was blunt, but not unkind, his goal being to understand her educational gaps and not to judge her. Still, an ingrained sense of stubborn pride made her stiffen. 

“I know... enough. As long as I am given ample time, I can usually piece together the broad strokes of what is in front of me. It is the finer details, the vocabulary rather than the grammatical structure, that are beyond my ken.” 

Solas nodded, stepping around her and pacing towards his desk. Once there, studied the contents silently for a moment, deep in thought. Her new pet - Falon, as his name would now always be to her- preened and the movement sent a shivering tickle down her spine as she waited for him to speak. A minute passed, and he raised his head suddenly and turned to face her. He sat lightly upon the desks edge, arms crossed casually over his chest. 

“I do not wish to insult your intelligence, but I would be more than happy to offer my assistance should you desire to... increase your knowledge of the written language. I would also be willing to teach you a bit of the  elvhen language as well, if you like.” 

She was aghast for a moment. He was not leaving her then? 

“I...” she was unsure of how to complete her sentence. Is that what she wanted? To have him treat her like his pupil and not his peer? To allow him to plumb the depths of her ignorance and bring it to light? Could she trust it to stay with him and not spread scandal  through the rest of the Inquisition? 

His face held her answers. She could trust her secrets with him, she knew this with absolute certainty. She knew that he sought to rid her of the self-doubt and weakness brought on by this inherent flaw in her character. And she knew that his role as her teacher, her  hahren , was already a well-established dynamic between the two. Solas had always been able to distinguish his role in her life, as well as his role within their organization, without diminishing her authority. She could accept his offer as a kindness and not as an act of pity or superiority. 

“I would...very much appreciate that.” Her smile was small, but genuine. He held out a hand, indicating that she should take the seat behind his desk. She raised a brow at this. “What, you want to start now? Isn’t it rather late for a vocabulary lesson?”

“Then we shall keep things brief, for tonight. And besides, it is never too late to learn, da’len.”

She might have been annoyed with his words, had it not been for the duel meaning behind them. Taking her seat at his desk, allowing him to hover over her shoulder as they spoke, they began with recognizing simple, often used words and phrases pertaining to work. The work itself was quite pleasant, although she suspected that that had everything to do with the company rather than the lessons  themselves . 

They continued into the wee hours of morn, stopping only after  Ellana let loose a bone deep exhausted yawn and cracked the stiff joints in her shoulder and neck. He then praised her diligence and ability to quickly pick up the material put in front of her, capping off their evening of learning with a tender kiss to her temple. She returned to her room with a dreamy smile on her face that night.

In the weeks following, the pair made time on nearly a nightly basis, even whilst traveling, to sit together and practice her reading and writing away from prying eyes. When their free time became limited, Solas had taken to sending more of his living paper creatures to carry messages for her to decipher and copy in her own hand. Tiny mice, rabbits, horses, and harts that found their way to her side no matter where she wandered. And then larger creatures such as dragons that would soar beside her as she walked the battlements, a miniature druffalo that shuffled along the surface of the table she sat at in the tavern, and even a rather large paper cat that had tried to eat poor Falon, whom she had elected to keep and care for after that first night. Her favorites were the creatures that she had no names for, that he had claimed to have come across during his forays in the fade. All were spectacular and most peculiar, with excess limbs or features that modern animals could never hope to match. The only thing she ever had to do to earn their allegiance was to speak to them as her friends as she had with Falon. And while she loved each and every beast that came to her little menagerie, as she had taken to calling her chambers, most were made to lay flat and still at her command. This seemed to cause them to remain dormant, their paper skin no longer warm or thrumming with the living energy they once possessed. Though she had hoped that with the proper command they might return to their living state. 

The passages he would have her read ventured from practical phrases and terms for daily use, to extrapolations regarding ancient  Elvhen culture, and on into more...amorous avenues of thought. Never anything tawdry or overtly scandalous, but they never ceased to make her heart soar and her lips tip into a shy smile when she read them. Her favorite thus far had said simply,” I love you, my heart” and the elven translation with which she was very familiar. He once sent a paper bear to find her whilst she planted new herbs in the keeps garden which unfolded to read,” Life without you would be un-BEAR-able" triggering a humiliating bout of ugly snort laughing from her. The  elvhen translation lost something, the language not being built for word puns such as in common. 

It was by sheer chance that she discovered another layer to these little love notes. On an evening several weeks after their lessons had begun, near to when they were set to leave for the ball at  Halamshiral ,  Ellana had found a wolf sitting patiently on his desk in the rotunda waiting for her. The scale of its paper body was much larger than those of the ones sent previously. Had it been true to life size, it would have been a tower of fur and muscle, likely as large as a house. 

His absence was less mysterious to her this time, knowing that everyone in the keep was hurriedly preparing for the imminent plunge into the heart of the Orlesian Game. She greeted the wolf as she had with its kin before it, and gingerly unfolded it to reveal the message within. The contents were most puzzling to her.

_“The Old Gods will call to you_

_From their ancient prisons they will sing._

_Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,_  
On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,   
_The first of My children, lost to night_.”

Ellana had never read or heard these words before, but the cadence reminded her of the  Andrastian chant that she heard spilling from the mouths of the Chantry priests that had taken their refuge with the inquisition after the conclave. Although why Solas would quote  shemlen philosophy was beyond her. She narrowed her eyes, considering the text further, when the light of a lit  veilfire torch hanging from the wall at her back touched a portion of the parchment and cast a shimmering green-blue glow. 

Curious, she tilted the sheet to catch more of the light. Alas, before her eyes, a second letter written invisibly from the first sprang forth. The  veilfire illuminated new words superimposed over the perplexing quote. Astonished, she took in the new message that was presented to her. 

“It is my dearest wish to see you succeed in this new endeavor, my love. But your inquisition does you a great disservice in throwing you to the wolves slavering to tear into your innocent person and rip you asunder.  Halamshiral will test you in ways you have yet to understand. Watch for the beasts that lie beneath the thin veneer of a mask. The Game does not end with the dawn.”

His words invoke a chill that settles into her bones. She is unsure whether he had meant her to see this hidden message or if he wished to air his concerns without disheartening her. Josephine and  Leliana had drilled her incessantly for months now on proper etiquette and the minutia of the Grand Game. Surely she was well prepared to face the court enough to foil  Corypheus ’ scheme? It’s not as though she had not faced catty remarks and blatant racism in her time. Nor was she as savage as the common folk are want to believe of a  Dalish elf. What more could she have to fear of this gathering of elitist gentry? 

For the first time since she had begun receiving these animated messages, she sought to return it to its sender and creator. But not without adding her own note in response to his cryptic warnings. An idea springing forth,  Ellana climbed the stairs to the second level containing the Inquisitions library. Carefully scanning the shelves, she found what she was looking for almost immediately: a written copy of the chant of light in full. A simple task, owing to the religious foundations that the organization was set upon. 

Brimming with new purpose, she sat herself in the window seat normally occupied by Dorian, who had chosen this evening to wonder down to the tavern, likely in search of wine and comfort with his  Qunari paramour. The newly reformed wolf shadowed her steps obediently. He remained curled up near her feet while she devoted hours to locating not only what she suspected was a direct quote that he had used in the base of his original message, but also one that might serve as a suitable rebuttal. Piecing together a string of verses from Transfigurations, she went about reopening the wolf and carefully transcribing the chosen phrases. 

_“Guide me through the blackest nights._

_Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked..._

_...know my heart:_

_Take me from a life of sorrow._

_Lift me from a world of pain._

_Judge me worthy of your endless Pride.”_

Ellana prayed that he would take her meaning from the borrowed words. That he would understand the amount of determination and trust that she placed with those who led by her side to help see her through this trial. And that she planned to not only succeed, but be worthy of their pride as well as his own. 

*****

The dank humidity of the forgotten tombs set Solas’ teeth on edge. He journeyed deep into the heart of the  Arlathan forest to follow the threads of rumors that had led him here. He stepped carefully around debris from shattered stone and creeping vines that had taken hold in the absence of life, ever vigilant of any traps that may remain. Even with the passing of centuries, the strongest should yet remain.

And yet there was nothing. 

The air was too still, too quiet. It lacked even the ephemeral hum of magic typically associated with the remains of ancient  Arlathian structures. He found the resulting placidness disturbing. Without thinking, he erected a barrier around himself. The feel of his own magic filling the dead air around him brought less comfort than it should have.

A stone skittered on the floor behind him and caused his spine to tense at the intrusion of sound in the deathly quiet of the place.  Abelas hissed at his fumble and pointed his scowl, now devoid of  Mythals ’  vallaslin , once more at his feet to avoid creating further disturbances. 

The ancient  elvhen man had joined Solas shortly after he had reclaimed his mantle as Fen’harel. Whether or not he was aware of his new leaders' role in the demise of his former master was unclear. However, he never wavered in his loyalty or service once committed to the cause. He had opted to have Solas remove his blood writing just weeks after joining, much to his surprise. His loyalty to his former mistress remained strong to this day. But, in the years since Solas’ departure from the Inquisition, Abelas had become his most trusted general. Even still, it was with great reluctance that he had been allowed to join in this expedition. 

“We should have already faced the guardians of this place.”  Abelas kept a hushed tone, but could not mask the uneasiness in his somber voice. 

“Not all things endure, Lethallin.”

Still, the pair kept their gait measured and ever cautious. The darkness of the temple grew steadily more tangible as they turned several more corners, still without interruption. 

Solas directed his gaze fixedly forward, ignoring the remains of jeweled reliefs upon the walls. In a time far removed from the present, he had  tread these halls as a God to his people. The visions of ostentatious grandeur and decadence lay still beneath the corpus of catastrophic destruction. As the pair continued on, He could almost see the portrayal of  Ghilan’nain and her many monstrosities told as a story of divine creation. It was a decent enough lie. 

Any who ventured into the depths of the earth beneath the temple, which had served as the wholesome public face for visiting supplicants, would find a mire of horror and unfathomable repugnance. For, beneath the ravaged stones resided the means and madness of a Goddess obsessed with creating life both awesome and unimaginably terrible at her whim.  Ghilan’nain had used places such as this to conduct her experiments, using the wonderous façade to draw in the unwitting and twisting them into new beings. Creatures feared and hunted by Solas’ other kin. His current objective, however, had been kept in the  labyrinth of halls atop that foundation of wickedness. 

A foci, such as the one lost during the defeat of  Corypheus , had at one time been kept here.  Ghilan’nain had lorded it over those daring enough to step foot in her domain. The object, a shining pyramid of pure gold etched in delicate vine like tracings imbued with millennia of concentrated will and godlike power, taunted passersby from the center of an otherwise empty and unassuming chamber. Its protection relying solely on extremely powerful old magic, traps rigged to leave no trace of impertinent thieves. 

The pair crept around another corner, drawing closer to where Solas remembered the foci was entombed.  Abelas refrained from making any other sounds, though his agitation was palpable in the air behind Solas’ back. The lack of any anti-intrusion measures now making the skin of his neck itch in anticipation. There was simply too much...nothingness. 

But he had no other recourse. He MUST find an additional source of power to enable the removal of the veil. His attempts to broach the magical barrier revealed the frustrating truth: as great as the power required to create the veil in the first place was, it would demand nearly thrice as much to tear it down once more. A feat rendered nearly impossible by modern magical means. The hope of the People rested in the dust of their destroyed empire and the detritus of their accomplishments. 

Finally, they arrived at the crumbling archway that denoted the foci's’ chamber. An inky, tangible blackness hung in the air as a lethal smog. The feel of it was a familiar weight in the pit of his stomach. Solas tamped down the realization that attempted to dawn on him at its presence. He would seize the foci and journey on to fulfill his objective, no matter the cost. 

Lifting his left arm out straight before him, Solas called upon his power to cover each nook and cranny of the room in search of hostile arcane energies. His eyes closed unconsciously as he concentrated on ferreting out any source of opposition to his will.  Abelas , exhibiting an uncharacteristic bout of nerves, shifted restlessly from foot to foot beside him in the ruined archway. His anxiety mounted as, still, he was unable to find any trace of the forces that could once have turned heaven and earth upon their very heads. The mark of the  Elvhen and his hopes for their restoration. 

Fen’harel growled low in the depths of his throat. The sound reverberated throughout the nearly empty chamber, scattering the silence like so many moths in the light of day. Startled into action,  Abelas too stretched forth a hand and lent his magic to the search. The thrum of power resounding from the two ancient elves should have shaken the crumbling walls around them. Instead, it felt as though an unseen and undetectable presence swallowed it into nonexistence within its maw. 

Solas lowered his arm in frustration, staunching the flow of his magic. He did not turn to his companion as he considered the chamber. As in the distant past, the foci sat upon a simple pedestal in the exact center of the room. Yet not even a whiff of the protection once in place to protect such an immensely powerful artifact remained in evidence. It was simply impossible that the passage of time alone could so thoroughly erode their presence. The energies once in evidence were self-sustaining and drew upon the ambient magics around them to replenish themselves in perpetuity. 

As Solas brooded silently upon this conundrum,  Abelas dared two cautious steps into the silent chamber. Solas hissed and made to grab his arm, but it proved unnecessary. Nothing stirred at their presence, save the wavering curl of blackness stretching lazily in the periphery. Solas met the sentinels gaze and the other elf gave a disinterested shrug and a wry half smile. He always did have more balls than sense, as the Iron Bull had once said. The memory made his lips twitch in the  shadow of a sad smile of his own. He took three steps towards the dais and paused just ahead of the sentinel. He had a rising certainty that he would be required to rely upon his pseudo divine abilities to discern what forces were at work here. A sweeping breath rattled his bone-weary form. Reluctance and self-contempt weighed on his proud shoulders as he silently prepared himself to do what he must.

A pair of steely blue eyes closed briefly, and once opened revealed an additional four all glowing in a shocking hue of crimson. The Elf's’ features, already pointed, became sharper and more canid. The Dread Wolf peered about the room and sniffed the stilled air, his movements smooth yet still beastly. A pointed ear twitched and, back still facing his general, he prowled the edges of the chambers. The Wolf could not trust the inviolability of this den of abhorrence. 

With preternatural speed, he turned in the same heartbeat that  Abelas lit a  veilfire torch from his position near the entrance they had come through. Centuries of experience and self-control only barely kept the sentinels face blank as he laid his eyes upon  Fen’Harel’s partially transformed figure. In a canine display of mannerisms, the Wolf huffed a breath of gratitude at his  general's forethought. 

A telltale shimmer of blue-green upon the walls around them caught their attention almost immediately. Letters of a long dead language slashed jaggedly along the canvas of stone, cutting through the darkness in the chamber like a beacon flashing to a distant ship from the shore. The letters, invisible to the naked eye, looked almost as though they were carved into the very stone once revealed by the light. It was a language  Fen’Harel himself remembered only in a confused flash of memory predating his occupation of a physical form. 

Six eyes sharpening in wary concentration, he stalked over to the wall nearest him and took in the ancient text. The magic used to create the words almost sizzled with scarcely contained energy.  Fen’Harel raised a hand to hover over a section of the writing and was hit with a wave of emotion so powerful it nearly sent him crashing to the floor. It was as though a mass of people had been tied together by their waists and were shouting inside of a broom closet, so much noise bouncing around a space far too small to contain it. He had only impressions of what was being thrown against the interior walls of his suddenly crowded skull. Ancient anger, pining despair, righteous superiority, hopeless longing, clever smugness, and so many more. And, always above it all and pleading to be heard above the vicious cacophony, loving devotion so out of place amongst its fellows that he nearly sobbed in confusion. So loud it was that he was unable to hear Abelas’ shout of warning from across the chamber where his physical body trembled, overwhelmed. 

Abelas found his way to Solas’ side and put a hand on his shoulder. He spoke but the noise of emotions was still roaring in his head. He felt rather than heard a pained whine leave his throat as he felt his mind tearing at the seams. And then, as abruptly as it had struck him, it all stopped in a single instance. The reemergence of the complete silence of the temple shocked him as his ears rang with the memory of sound. He realized that Abelas had removed his hand from where it had hovered over the veilfire script. He straightened his back after taking a breath to collect himself. He lowered the arm that had reached for the wall and clenched the hand into a fist at his side. The part of him that remained Solas vaguely wondered what the sentinel thought of his vulnerability. But, as he turned to thank him for his assistance, he realized that the ancient elf was staring not at him but at the entrance to the chamber. His face bore the look of a creature who had realized itself as prey in the presence of a predator. 

“We are not alone.” His assurance in that statement indicating that Solas had indeed missed something during his episode with the voices. 

“What did you hear, Lethallin?”

But before he could answer, a strange hissing purr echoed from the halls beyond theirs. A dart of fear skittered up his spine at the sound. That noise belonged to no known creature that he had come across in his many millennia of existence. 

Realizing that the confrontation with this unknown creature would likely lead to trouble, Solas returned his gaze to the writing on the wall, hands clenched carefully at his sides. As he drew upon memories so old that they had been nearly forgotten in a near endless stretch of time, he registered that the sound of the creature moved about the various rooms without making any deliberate progress towards their own. It likely sensed the presence of life in the temple, but was unable to pin point the location. It was hunting them. 

He gestured for  Abelas to remain silent and take up watch in the shadows near the archway while he hastily worked to translate the writing into a language that he could more easily decipher, hoping that he could discern any previously unseen security surrounding the foci. He argued internally with himself over the identity of the author, knowing against his will who had breached this sanctuary before him and ignoring the implications. 

As he worked towards translating the text, the sounds of the beast in the halls grew slowly louder. His time was running short, but he had managed to decipher nearly three quarters of the writing on the walls.

_ “We without form are merciful, _

_ Forget not the mutable spirit and travel beyond, _

_ Form, both shackle and strength,  _

_ But we are more...” _

The sound, akin to blood caught between clenched lips, reverberated from a chamber just down the hall from them. Solas threw himself into reading as fast as he could in the forgotten tongue. 

_ “ _ _ So _ _ must you be, _

_ There lies a beast still within, _

_ But a spoiled bitch is of no use, _

_ Remove yourself from the trap...” _

Abelas’ brow furrowed and his tongue unconsciously lapped at his lower lip as he slowly called upon his mana, preparing to defend without alerting the presence in the adjoining chamber to their location prematurely. Solas very nearly had it translated, his skin prickling with awareness. 

_ “Choose  _ _ your _ _ allies wisely, Old Wolf, _

_ Speak to our pet and be free, _

_ Save the elf and you will not leave, _

_ A life for a life, _

_ Such is the price we must pay.” _

A blast of lightning haled the end of his time, as  Abelas engaged the beast that finally entered their chamber. It was glorious in its terrible visage. A creature with the shape of an immense mountain cat on four legs, the slick black scales of a serpent replacing fur on its neck, back and legs, and a mouth filled with the teeth of a drake. It possessed the tail of a scorpion and venom likely flowed through its veins. Its intelligent eyes glowed with monstrous intent. The spell landed perfectly where its head and shoulders met...and glanced off the hide as if it were nothing. The predator didn’t so much as flinch at the attack and locked eyes with Abelas. 

The sentinel did not falter, skillfully evading the creature's jaws as it lunged for him. He landed in front of the pedestal and charged the beast in turn, simultaneously thrusting an arm out and sending a ball of flame directly down it’s throat as it whipped its head around to hiss in rage.  Abelas paused for the span of three heartbeats, waiting to see what affect his spell would have. This cost him, as the beast merely belched forth a tiny cloud of black smoke before the tail lashed around and swept him off of his feet. He landed on his back midway between the entrance and the pedestal. Even with his well-honed skills in battle, the creature hopelessly outmatched him through sheer force. It settled a talon tipped paw atop his chest, digging them into his skin drawing blood and synchronously snapping his ribs. The Generals’ agonized shout broke Solas out of his calculating stupor.

On instinct alone, he summoned and launched a chunk of fade stone at the beast. The attack managed to catch it off guard and startle it off of the pinned mage, but inflicted no noticeable damage to its seemingly impervious hide. Penetrating violet eyes met his six crimson orbs and held. It was waiting to see what he would do. 

_ Save the elf and you will not leave... _ .

He hesitated as  Abelas groaned and stirred from his position on the floor. Solas had placed himself just in front of the foci, prepared to grab it and make a mad dash from the temple with his ally in tow. Abelas’ movement caught the creature's attention once more and it moved to renew its assault, only to be met with creeping ice that sheathed its limbs and temporarily delayed it. It was too weak to cause any really damage, if it could even penetrate that impervious hide at all. Solas wasted no time and dashed to the wounded man's side, but the sound of that damnable hissing purr as the ice about its limbs almost immediately shattered under its thrashing echoed in the cavernous space. A split second saved him from being scorched as the sharp inhale and hiss of fire alerted Solas to the beast's intent. Its dragon-like maw gaped open to allow a white-hot stream of flame to blast forth, licks of heat nipped at his exposed neck and skull. The stone where the blast impacted turned pitch black and spiderwebbed fractures. It narrowly missed hitting Abelas as he rolled to his stomach and tried sitting up through panting breaths. 

Solas took the opportunity to distract the beast with his own display of fire. He raised an arm high and made a fist, before violently bringing it down in a punching motion, summoning flaming meteors to beat down in the vicinity of the creature. The burning rain served its purpose in distracting the creature, the flames glancing off its scales and causing it to hiss and gracelessly bound away from them. This didn’t last for more than a few seconds before it broke through and lunged for Solas, teeth extended and aimed at his jugular. 

It passed over  Abelas in its fervor and was completely unprepared to find his dagger in its softer underbelly. Solas managed to fade step out of its trajectory and the beast howled and crashed into the wall, creating a crater upon impact. It slumped to the floor and he didn’t even have time to time to entertain the hope that it would be incapacitated before it was upon him once more with a swipe of razor-sharp talons. He managed to avoid being disemboweled but still felt the sting of five shallow cuts across his abdomen. Solas let out a growl of anger and cast a force push to create space between himself and the beast. It staggered back several feet and lowered its head at him. Its scorpion tale swished in a very feline manner, as if in anticipation to pounce. And it’s uncanny eyes...

_ “Such an unusual shade of violet...”  _ Solas thought to himself. He remembered, with a pang, the only other being he had encountered with such a unique shade of iris. He felt his resolve to resist begin to slip from his grasp. He had come here for a specific purpose and now faced a decision that would determine the path of his future plans and therefore his people. He needed that foci, without question. His plans hinged on the power within. 

But was he willing to sacrifice his best and most trusted general in a gambit with the Formless One, whom he had no uncertainty set up this particular trap for him? This creature was unnaturally resilient and difficult to wound. Even with a dagger still lodged in its stomach it had lost none of its power or ferocity. It was very possible that the two of them together would not be able to slay it and claim the foci, sending the future of the  elvhen to their final end. 

The beast began to circle slowly around the room and Solas moved with it in a perfect mirror. Their dance brought him away from the dais, he noticed with a frustrated frown. The beast was too determined to force this confrontation and keep him from what he desired. It had to be dealt with, one way or another. Suddenly,  Abelas appeared with the twin of the dagger still in the creature and struck the it at the base of its skull, searching for a weak point to injure it enough to either allow escape or discover a means of ending it permanently. The beast bellowed in rage and furiously bucked in a bid to unseat  Abelas from its back. The sentinel managed to keep from being thrown from his position, but was also unable to progress in finding a weakness in its defenses. 

“ Lethallin , please! I require  your aid!”

Indecision froze Solas in his tracks surer than any spell. Being with the inquisition, with  Ellana , had taught his ancient soul the value of companionship. He truly understood for the first time amongst their ragtag group of heroes what a gift it was to be able to rely on others to achieve a goal. And, despite their many differences, he valued their presence at his side. When he reclaimed his godly mantle, he found it nearly impossible to establish such trust and reliance amongst his followers. They were inclined to venerate him for his power and name rather than operate as his peers as he was  hopeful they one day might.  Abelas was the only one amongst his new allies who treated him as a man rather than a God.

The beast finally managed to fling  Abelas to the ground and promptly sank its pointed teeth into the crux of his neck and shoulder. His scream of torment tore at the Old Wolfs heart, but he did not intervene. He watched with forlorn eyes as the beast shook the elf clamped in his teeth, tearing into his skin before tossing him at the base of the pedestal in a bloody mess of flesh. The arcane warrior let loose a defeated whimper. On shaking arms, he held his upper body up just enough to meet Solas’ gaze. His voice quivered and gurgled wetly in his throat as he addressed him.

“ Fen’Harel ... ma halani..” 

But the Dread Wolf stayed his hand.

Fen’Harel had long since hardened himself to attain his goals. There could be no sympathy, no compromise, and no mercy. He would not exhaust himself in hopeless battle against some unknown monster in the forgotten, decrepit temple of his enemy-sister. He put the lives of his people above all else, never balking at the cost. Even when the slow arrow must break in his own jaw. There was a choice to make here. He would always choose to restore his world.

The beast had halted in front of the general, sitting on its hind legs with its tail swishing about impatiently. Waiting for his decision.  Fen’Harel blinked his six empty eyes. 

“Na  melana sahlin .” 

The sentinel did not even appear to be surprised. Nor was he angry, bitter, or distraught. He allowed his body to tumble back against the dais in resignation, golden eyes on the ceiling high above. 

“ Fen’Harel enaste .” 

His entire body flinched at the phrase, but he viciously suppressed any further reaction. He cloaked himself in silence as a response, to stifle the grief setting in. Instead, he turned to face the beast once more. 

“Do what you must,  falon . The choice has been made.”

The beast acknowledged his words with a sentient dip of its scaled head before turning back to Abelas. The elf didn’t bother to lower his gaze to meet its slavering glare, he simply looked up as if he were tracing constellations with his eyes. An expression of something akin to relief etched upon his blood-soaked features. He accepted this sacrifice. His time had indeed come, at long last. 

Nary a sound parted the viscous silence as the creatures’ arachnid tail swung forth once more and plunged into his shredded chest. The black vapors that had been wafting through the chamber coalesced and shrouded the man's body so quickly that he did not even have time to draw a breath in pain. The obsidian cloud rippled and dispelled, leaving only the husk of the late generals' corpse behind. It was frozen, as if in a tranquil repose just before slumber. But his visible skin had shriveled and turned brown, like overripe fruit. The entropic cloud then condensed and was sucked in toward the creature, who opened its mouth to swallow it whole. Its cat-like body shivered once, and then it stilled and sat upon the floor beside the dais. 

It curled its’ lethal tail about its legs as it sat, staring at Solas with those disturbingly familiar violet eyes. A metallic glint revealed the dagger, still buried in its abdomen, and the beast paid no mind to it. The hostility  present before had bled out and left the beast ostensibly docile. He bowed his head at the monster, likely created by a demon from the dawn of creation, who had forced the hand of a god.

“Be on your way now,  da’len . Please inform your master of what has transpired here.”

Its eyes rippled and filled with the same inky blackness from before and it turned with fluid grace and left through the entrance with one last lingering hissing  purr . He waited for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the creature making its way through the maze of corridors and out of the temple. The emptiness of this place was now complete. 

With a heavy heart, Solas was at last able to approach the pedestal without fear of triggering some unknown trap. His fingers closed around the golden  pyramid, its surface frigid to the touch. He tilted it in the dim flickering light of the abandoned  veilfire torch that had been tossed into the far corner of the room by  Abelas before the skirmish. 

The cold of the foci pierced into his very spirit as he realized...the object was dormant. Panicked, he pushed his own magic into it to try and force a reaction. Nothing. The pyramid was an empty vessel, likely a false copy placed here after the Formless One had dismantled the old traps and taken the genuine artifact. 

His chest constricted in horrible realization, and he watched as the vine like tracings on the objects surface twisted and reshaped themselves into more words in the forgotten tongue. More emotions washed over him, as they had with the glyphs upon the wall. Triumph, empathy, insatiable cruelty, fathomless excruciating pain, wicked cunning, the ceaseless refrain of enduring love melting into the background as snow in the rays of the desert sun...

_ Congratulations! You are now the second being to plumb the depths of this forgotten trove. I do hope that you enjoyed your time with my sweet little friend. Her name is Mithadra’ghilan, by the way. And, as you now see, my pets have more bite than yours. Dareth shiral, vhenan. _

Fen’Harel seethed in untamable fury at this deception. The weight of his sacrifice burned as acid beneath his skin. It had been an empty gesture, a ploy to force him into an untenable situation and hobble him no matter the outcome. The choice was void. 

Solas felt his bones snapping out of place as the tether binding him to his calm severed. His skin stretched beyond its boundaries and ballooned as his form reshaped itself. Black fur, thick and spiked into bristles sharp as daggers, sprouted from pale skin. The exquisite agony caused his mouth to water and froth as his nose and mouth elongated into a snarling snout filled with pointed teeth. He had avoided donning his divine form in the waking world since rekindling his power. He made do with his mortal prowess instead, preferring the control that it allowed him. The power of the Wolf was like drinking wine from a geyser, overpowering and intoxicating. And he drank it in now in delicious gulps, accepting the consequences in favor of the relief of its influence. The voice that remained Solas objected in the recesses of his mind. But the voice grew faint as The Dread Wolf was reborn into this tranquil world. 

The walls and ceiling of the chamber trembled and were blown apart as the Wolf, now the size and temperament of a high dragon, burst forth and rent the skies apart with his abominable howl; spreading across all corners of  Thedas so that all would hear and know of his return. 

**Author's Note:**

> Elven used in this piece:  
> Vhenan: My Heart  
> fenehdis lasa: an, as of yet, undefined curse  
> ma lath: my love  
> vhen'an'ara: hearts desire  
> falon: friend  
> vallaslin: blood writing  
> lethallin: kinsman/brother  
> ma halani: help me  
> na melana sahlin: your time is come  
> Fen'Harel enaste: Fen'Harel's favor (used as a blessing)  
> da'len: child/young one  
> Mithadra'ghilan: Honored guide
> 
> Thank you to FenxShiral and the Dragon Age Wiki once again for helping to infuse the language in this piece! I had no beta for this story, please come forward if you're interested! This has been sitting on my computer, half finished, for almost 2 months now. I am so relieved to finish it and put it out there, but am not totally satisfied with how the conflict at the end was resolved. I may come back and do major edits on that later. But i wanted to finish this beast so that I can move on to my other stories. As always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! Stay home and healthy, people! <3


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